


Soul of Vengeance

by Fritzen_lcaos



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Agents of SHIELD, F/M, FitzSimmons fluff, Halloween, Horror, fitzsimmons angst, maybe some
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fritzen_lcaos/pseuds/Fritzen_lcaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz and Simmons are on each others warpath, a falling out between them has left them in an endless state of bickering. Jemma feels responsible for it all, but there is no time to dwell on that.<br/>A case shows up in their hands, giving them and the team a new threat unlike anything they've ever dealt with before. A run down house hidden in Circleville, Ohio is housing the restless spirit of a woman who was murdered brutally 200 years prior.<br/>At the stroke of midnight on the night of her murder, she awakens to lure in her next set of victims. Two enter, but only one leaves.<br/>No one has been able to crack the mystery of the vengeful soul, until one fateful night. FitzSimmons and their team all venture down to the peculiar house, in hopes they can solve the strange disappearances.<br/>While exploring the house, FitzSimmons are trapped within ghosts chambers while the others are stranded outside.<br/>It becomes known to the two just what goes on the night the woman's ghost was murdered, what happens to the bodies that don't make it.<br/>The wrong doers in relationships have but one night to resolve their problems, or the vengeful soul never lets them see light again.<br/>And Jemma is next on her list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bicker Management

**Author's Note:**

> Wow OK so this is probably going to be some of the CRAZIEST shit I have ever(and will be) writing. I wanted to write something for Halloween, but I wanted to do something different than what everyone else was doing.  
> Last weekend I visited a house known as the Octagon House. While very cool, it was creepy as hell. It gave off the entire vibe that it was, in fact haunted. It then sparked the idea of writing my own ghost story to fit with the house, while bringing in some of fave characters to boot.  
> I am sad to announce that the ghost depicted in this story is not a real ghost or legend, but the house, the town and what I describe are very much real.  
> This takes place back in season 2 when Fitz and Simmons were not getting along(painful, I know..but the story kind of needs it..).  
> This first chapter is slow, I apologize for that in advance. Any future updates will be wont be churned out super duper fast, either. Halloween isn't for another fifteen days so I am going to take my time on this to ensure that it perfect for you guys but also try my best to get this done by Halloween.  
> I hope you enjoy and thanks for checking this out!  
> -StarLorki

It took all of Jemma Simmon's strength to keep herself from rolling her eyes, a huff of irritated air left her lips.

It has only been thirty minutes into what was their usual work day and already they were bickering. They bickered all the time, it was just how they were. If there was no bickering, everyone would probably assume that something was wrong.

But the amount of bickering that took place as of lately was no longer amusing, nor was it like anything the two of them usually did.

It was more heated than usual, in ways more stressful. To most, it was a complete waste of one's breath.

The cause of all of this bitterness was more than just a situation gone wrong. It was simply because it was her fault.

Months ago, she made the horrid decision to leave him. After the incident at the bottom of the ocean, after witnessing his feelings, after seeing that she was no help to him at all, she vanished like a ghost.

She figured it was for the better of both of them, but in the end it was truly selfish. He had a lot of healing to get done, as did she. They needed each other's presence, encouragement and trust to help get them through it.

It was main reason why their bickering was so much more than just their need to get their opinions out there, now they had a reason to pick fights. They no longer trusted one another.

"I said I was sorry," she began, her voice puffed out in an aggravated tone.

"How was I to know that a useless piece of scrap was meant to be put towards a new model for the Icer?" Her eyes refused to meet his, as she fussed over her most recent task.

Shaking a vial in her hand, she silently prayed that he would not press her to face him.

Not looking at him would keep her emotions from exploding, keeping busy and focusing on her job would help her keep her composure.

It would help her keep the parts that were already breaking apart, together.

Fitz stood a mere two feet away, wanting to make his presence known. Wearing a dark blue, button down shirt and a thick, gray cardigan placed his hands on his lower back. He locked his icy blue eyes on his lab partner, narrowing them into a squint.

"I told you, it is the Night-Night pistol." he snapped out harshly, his tone making her cringe. "No one addressed me before making these changes to my work."

She set her free hand down roughly, causing the other vials on her workspace before her to rattle.

"Oh bloody hell, Fitz. It isn't like you are the one making orders here! We needed a name that best fit what the gun is. Like any real agent would even call a weapon such a ridiculous name." she retaliated, her chilly tone making the room ten degrees cooler.

As soon as she said it, she began to regret it. The doctor warned her to be careful what she said around him, for Fitz held onto the past like it was his only security from the big, scary world that now faced him. It meant obliging to little things like calling the Icer a Night-Night Pistol, letting him finish his own sentences and etc.

If it was hard for him, it was ten times harder for her. She was still learning how the new Fitz worked, how he ticked and functioned.

The finer edges of Fitz were slowly turning bitter, waiting to crumble and break off.

She waited for a quick witted response back, but when she heard nothing but eerie silence behind her, she feared that she had pissed him off and he left.

Then she heard it, the single, softest voice in the whole wide world, barely a whisper above the soft hum the machinery in the lab gave off.

It reminded her of a child's voice, one that was small and quiet, nearly heart breaking. It was the tone of a child that was ready to be done fighting with his mother.

"Jemma."

A lump instantly formed in her throat, her heart picking up its pace. She knew what lie within that tone better than project you could throw at her. Beneath the surface was traces of hurt, snippets of anger, laced heavily with the thing she could not resist.

Dare.

If it was one thing she could not turn down, it was the way he dared her. Dared to make her regret, dared to make her sorry, dared her to bend over backwards for him. He did not have to say or do anything at all, one shared look between one another was enough to undo her.

She lowered the glass vial in her hands, aware of the fact that it was shaking. She knew what she had to do, but it took every ounce of fiber in her bone to force herself to do so.

She turned herself slowly to face him, her eyes meeting his crystal blue ones.

One look at him with his arms with his arms crossed made her feel as if she shrunk inwards, her lab coat suddenly feeling very heavy on her tiny frame.

Looking at him use to give her the biggest boost of courage and hope. In the darkest of moments, his vibrant, cheerful eyes and peaceful face would bring the biggest smile to her face, like anything was possible when they were together.

Now looking at it only pained her, her heart writhing within her chest violently. Tears already began misting her eyes, but she forced herself to pay careful attention to him as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm not broken, Jemma. I can handle change, I can handle what went down between Hydra and everything after Ward."

His voice caught slightly in his throat, she knew what was coming next.

"But I can't handle us."

It almost all went straight downhill from there, she sucked in a deep breath to keep herself from losing all control, but it was no use. She waited for him to say the words that would undo her very existence, but something broke in before either one of them could make a sound.

An echo of loud static crackled above them, causing their eyes to flick to the ceiling.

A serious voice, May's, followed shortly after.

"Fitz and Simmons, please report upstairs. Director Coulson would like to see us in his office."

 

"We found an 0-8-4," The two barely entered the small space before Coulson began, earning a sideways glare from Agent May.

Simmons felt her face heat up, knowing full well that she could tell when they had been fighting. It was no secret, everyone knew when they had been fighting.

Sliding a folder across the slick table top, Coulson began rattling on about the contents of the folder.

Simmons could hardly keep track with everything being said and done, she was still unnerved from her near breakdown with Fitz. She tried her best to keep her tears from falling, knowing full and well that they picked a horrid time to call a group meeting. Nonetheless, she was grateful to have been pulled out of the situation before it got any worse.

She was surprised that despite after everything that went down, Fitz was still standing beside her. It was as if he yearned to be near her, setting aside their differences for the time being. May watched them from across the table, but was quickly distracted when Skye made a face, her head tilting to the side as she stared at the files in her hands.

"An 0-8-4? There's a term I haven't heard in a long while."

Though her response was sarcastic, there was a small snort of agreement from Fitz, making the heat rise in her cheeks once again. He knew what her opinions on Objects of Unknown Origins were like, ever since Trip died and Skye was introduced to Inhuman like powers..

Simmons barely skimmed over the page before her, putting those thoughts quickly aside for another time. Her eyebrows knit together in confusion, the words and photos that danced across the pages made very little sense.

Coulson stated that this was in regards to an 0-8-4, but the files here stated something much more than your typical alien harassing humans situation.

This was far more...spiritual.

Setting the folder down, she turned an anxious glare up to the head of the table, where Coulson stood with a serious expression on his face.

"Sir, I don't mean to pry, but the files state that the situation we have been handed involves-" "Ghosts?" Coulson finished, earning him a sideways glare from May.

As soon as that word left his lips, Skye's eyebrows shot up to her hairline and Fitz, who was once a good foot away from her now stood relatively close. She noticed how tense his body seemed to be, the way his fingers dug into his palms.

Ever since there was the situation of a "ghost" on the Bus, Fitz hasn't been too fond of the thought. He fully believed in there being evil spirits beyond the veil, even ignoring what sound science proved as being obsolete.

Coulson, aware of everyone's curious faces, flicked a photo out of his own set of the files, lifting it high enough for everyone to see.

On the glossy print was an old house, clearly it had seen better days as the windows were boarded up, the brick was fading and the entire outside seemed to be falling apart. One look at the photo was enough to send a chill throughout her bones, where she forced herself to suppress a shiver.

It was a peculiar house, this much she knew. She could already tell that most of it was because the shape of the house, which was a rather unique octagon shape. Imagine what standing before it would do to her.

"Hey, I know that place!" Skye's eyes flashed with familiarity, surprising them all. "I saw it on one of those real life ghost buster things Fitz likes to watch. While entertaining, they're a load of sh-" "Hey, I'll have you know that they're proven to be real!"

Simmons somewhat expected there to be another argument, only this time it would be between Fitz and Skye as opposed to her and him for once.

Clearing his throat, Coulson gave them all a disapproving glare before bringing their attention back to the photo in his hand.

"This is the Octagon House. It was originally built in 1855 and was the home of two very famous, successful, and very rich farm people." Coulson's words were cut off by a snort, which they quickly learned had come Skye. She did her best to keep from laughing, it was obvious she found it humorous that there was such a thing as famously successful farm people.

"They moved shortly after, only for another successful family to be moved in. Long story short, someone died horrifically in that house. Whoever it was then became an evil spirit, staying relatively quiet for most of the year. Putting aside the fact that on the anniversary on which that person died, there are stories that you can still hear the woman scream as she is being brutally murdered."

Despite her disbelief, Skye's face grew slightly serious. In an instant what was once filled with noise was now covered in a heavily silence. May's eyes refused to meet anyone's. Fitz, arms crossed over his chest like he was hugging himself, as rocked back and forth on his feet.

They all watched with wary, curious eyes as Coulson laid the photo on the tabletop, his eyes locking with theirs as he continued speaking: "The lovely couple that moved in shortly after was more of odd than lovely. Locals claimed they never saw the family leave their house. Not for food, not for anything. In 1865 the husband, Wilfred Conce brutally murdered his wife and escaped with no charges. Those screams are about all anyone would hear. That all changed a couple years ago when the house was moved from its first location and down the road. Now every year on the anniversary, two people enter the house and only one leaves."

Fitz's eyes widened quickly, as he lifted his head to look at Coulson.

"Like a vengeful spirit unhappy with the fact that it was disturbed."

Skye raised her hand as soon as Coulson finished nodding, looking as if she were a student asking for permission to be excused.

"Not to be nosey, sir, but what exactly does this mean to us?"

Every set of eyes was now back on him, looking to him for the answer. Like he always did.

A small, amused smile slowly crossed his lips as he closed the folder in his hands.

"It means that we have a lot of homework to do. Simmons, I want you to dig up everything you know on the Conce family. We will be landing in Ohio in five."


	2. A Vengeful Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her body wanted to collapse to the floor, her mind begging her to curl up in a fetal position. The words rang over and over in her head, like a broken record caught on your most hated lyrics in the world: “You can’t save them. You can’t save them.”  
> Her knees trembled beneath her, almost giving in to the command that her mind and soul was telling her.   
> You can’t save them, Jemma Simmons. You will never save them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a really long time to write.  
> OK, it only took me four days..  
> But man am I ever happy that I got this out today! This entire week I will be doing nothing but working my ass off at this festival my work is setting up at.  
> So if your wondering, that means I will not be updating this week. It also means that I will probably be missing this weeks Agent's of SHIELD.:(  
> But to make my day a better one, I give you this chapter! Hope you all enjoy!  
> -StarLorki

They landed in Circleville exactly when Coulson said that they would, but by the time they got themselves situated in it was too late to go out and investigate anything.

Simmons quickly began on the research process of the house as Coulson asked her to, but found herself going in an endless circle of the same info over and over again.

_"Wilfred Conce purchased the Octagon house. Wilfred Conce murdered his wife. Wilfred Conce vanished like a ghost. Wilfred-"_

She slammed her laptop shut with an agitated sigh, before placing her forehead into her hands. Coulson assigned her to the one job that was way out of her comfort zone. Where she should have been in the lab preparing weapons and gear for their mission, she was stuck doing what would have been Skye's job.

When it came to finding information, Skye could have it on her screen in a matter of seconds. The only reason Coulson sent her here was to give her and Fitz a break from one another. They all saw it on their faces when they entered the room, the red tint and glossy eyes of two people that just got into yet another fight.

_How could she handle anymore of this stress?_ She was trying her hardest to mend what was broken but everything she tried just dug a deeper hole between the two.

Maybe that was how Lillian Conce was murdered, maybe she tried so hard to appeal to her husband that it ultimately sent him way over the edge. Only difference is Fitz would not murder her, the man could hardly hold a gun straight to save his life.

It seemed like the only time he was capable of such actions was when it involved her being in some sort of life threatening situation..

_Like being trapped at the bottom of the ocean._

She shook her head quickly, allowing her short hair to fall into place around her face.

_No,_ no way in hell was she going to bring that thought up again. She has had a long day, and another was scheduled before her. Tomorrow they would visit with a local that has spent her entire life here in Circleville, knew everything she could ever contain about the town's history.

This  _included_ the Octagon House.

Simmons looked at the clock on the wall, realizing that it was way late and that she was still sitting there in her work outfit. Her mind told her that she should make her way to her bunk, but she was already beginning to feel the strain of sleep on her eyes.

She must have fallen asleep at the work table, for she was brought out of her sleep by a loud crashing sound outside of her work place. Her head shot up quickly, her entire body leaping from her chair. She landed on her feet like a ballerina, her arms in a ready fighting position.

Her time spent in the Hydra base has greatly affected how she responds to certain situations, that it was almost embarrassing how often the slightest sound could set her off.

The lights around her were out, leaving the room heavily encased in a dark, shadowy blanket. She could have sworn that they were still on when she laid her head down to rest, but she was so tired that she could have just forgotten turning them off.

The crashing sound started again, only this time it was right outside of the office door. Nearly causing her to shoot ten feet into the air, she stifled a yelp of surprise. The hair on the back her neck suddenly was standing on end, as the thoughts that something was outside her door to get her ran through her mind.

She could of have ducked her head and run, could have found herself a place to hide from whatever was beyond the foggy glass door. But something peaked her curiosity, perhaps this was just another cruel prank that Skye was trying to pull over on her, she never did get Fitz and her back for that time they pulled all those pranks on her.

Now would be the perfect time to pull one, what with the mission at hand and the fact that Halloween was only sixteen days away.

Shaking her head, she allowed her muscles to relax as she pushed herself to leave the safety of her office, her hands turning the knob.

Nothing but darkness surrounded her, where she was met with a muggy heat and the stench of iron as soon as she stepped out.

No signs of Skye or any of the others were within her sight, nor the object behind the loud crashing. She was left to stand there with her eyebrows knit in confusion, her hands wringing together. She could have sworn she heard the sound of metal or glass smashing outside her very door, but it maybe it was all apart of her wild imagination.

This William Conce research was beginning to rot out her brain.

Beyond the shadows a shallow sound met Simmons ears, as if the darkness itself was trying to catch its breath.

" _I can hear your breathing, Skye_." she called out, just as her ears picked up the sound of someone's heavy breaths.

She waited for someone to jump out and attempt to scare, or for the sound of Skye's snickering to come from around the corner. She was met with nothing but heavy silence.

That was when a soft sound fell upon her ears, barely audible above the heavy breaths.

_"S-Simmons._ "

Every hair on her neck once again stood on end, a slight tremor running throughout her bones. She knew that voice, knew it so well that when she heard the weakness to it she knew something was wrong.

Instead of looking around her, she forced herself to lower her eyes down to the floor, a startled gasp escaping her lips.

Skye was laying on the ground before her, her left hand pressing itself tightly to her stomach.

Something was off about Skye, something that shouldn't have even been physically possible. Her hair was longer, her face thinner. There was a hint of the Skye that she first met, when she was young and practically careless.

Something red covered her hands, completely staining the front of her floral shirt. It trailed behind her in a pool of red, leaving a mess behind her. It took Skye's face locking with the already green scientist to make her realize that she was looking back on a memory of when Skye had been shot  _twice_ by Ian Quinn.

Simmons, eyes wide and face paled, almost retched the contents of her stomach on the floor before her. The sight of so much blood and the stench of iron was enough to leave her shaking in her spot.

Skye's struggled to breath, grimacing as she reached a struggling hand out to the frozen scientist. Her eyes laced with tears and pleading, something that sounded like a whimper escaped her lips.

_"S-Simmons, please h-help me._ "

Simmons stood completely still, shocked at the state of her suffering her friend was. Beads of sweat lined her forehead, blood was smeared on the panicked girls face. Her lips were blue, her heavy breaths and groans making her look and sound as if she was a walker from the  _Walking Dead_.

_She was going into shock._

She placed a hand over her mouth, holding back the emotions that so desperately wanted to fight their way out. She tried desperately to tone out her friends pleading cries, as she backed away from the body slowly.

There was nothing she could do for her at this point. That thought alone is what scared her so bad.

She expected to come back into contact with another door, one that would lead her into the safety and familiarity of her lab space. Instead, she bumped into something soft, her hair getting caught in something wet and sticky.

Her hands began to shake slightly, her heart pounding heavily against her chest.

_"Oh bloody, please don't let it be.._ " she hurled herself around quickly, her hand finding itself to her face once again.

It was Coulson that stood before her, looking as he usually did with his one of his suits and nice buttoned down shirts on. His expression showed no signs of alarm in regards to the situation behind her, but that was probably because of the fact that lining his white shirt was a large blood stain of his own.

Coulson slowly looked down at the stain that was quickly spreading throughout his shirt as if it were nothing but a simple ketchup stain. Tears threatened at the corners of Simmons eyes, Coulson's glassy and unfocused eyes raising themselves to lock with hers.

She almost expected him to collapse before her, the way his body swayed making it obvious that his strength was depleting.

He opened his mouth hesitantly, the words that left his lips sent her tumbling backwards.

_"Why don't you help us, Jemma?"_

Simmons hands shook violently, unable to control her emotions the first couple of tears made their way down her face. They burned like acid as they went, her mouth opening to speak but her words catching in her throat.

_Why didn't she help them?_ She was trained for this,  _prepared_  for this. She could help them, she  _could_ save them.

So  _what_ was holding her back from doing so?

A strangled sob escaped her throat, her mind became aware of the fact that the two single tears that slid down her face was now a waterfall of acid pouring down her cheeks.

She could not help them in the state that were in, Skye already unconscious at her feet and Coulson's breath becoming shallower by the minute. Her heart pounded restlessly against her ribcage, her mind trying to process just what she was witnessing but failing horribly.

Her body wanted to collapse to the floor, her mind begging her to curl up in a fetal position. The words rang over and over in her head, like a broken record caught on your most hated lyrics in the world:  _"You can't save them. You can't save them._ "

Her knees trembled beneath her, almost giving in to the command that her mind and soul was telling her.  _You can't save them, Jemma Simmons. You will never save them._

_"Jemma."_

The soft voice broke through the noise and the chaos, shattering the veil of confusion and madness. Her tear flooded eyes looked at Coulson, before flicking themselves down to Skye. Both were frozen in their places, as if someone paused the two heart wrenching moments with their remote.

The voice that paused all the chaos was from neither Skye or Coulson, for it had an accent and felt more familiar to her than anything in the world.

Instantly her tense, wobbling legs found the strength to keep her standing, her heart allowing itself slow itself to a normal pace.

She swung herself around to face the face behind the voice, a small flare of hope rose within her chest before it quickly faded into cold-hearted horror.

He stood behind her as the brightest, most vibrant memory of them all. His youthful face and bright blue eyes looked at her like she was the most important thing standing there in this moment, completely unaware of Coulson and Skye dying before them.

His face was lined with cuts, blood and scars, his arm hoisted up in a sling. Catching sight of the sling brought a sentence back to her mind that she found herself thinking about ever since the incident. Feelings were said, actions were done and their lives were changed forever.

_"You're more than that, Jemma."_

As soon as that sentence echoed through her mind, the peaceful expression on Fitz's face changed into a look of intense fear.

_"NO!"_ she felt the word bubble within her throat, but her voice would not come.

He opened his mouth to cry out for her, but a fit of watered-down coughing replaced his voice, as he doubled over onto the floor.

Every sense she would use to keep herself calm in such a horrid situation was thrown out the door as soon as she watched Fitz collapse to the ground. Fear coursed through every vein in her body, her breath getting caught in her lungs.

She threw herself down to his level as soon as he began gasping for air, his hands clutching at his throat. She grabbed for his hands as her tears sprung up again, so many processes of how she could save him were running through her mind but her hands refused to move to perform a single one.

The fear that ran through made it impossible to focus on keeping her emotions intact, her voice tumbled out loud and panicked, heavily quoted in her sobs. She pleaded with him to keep his eyes on her, to focus on her voice.

_To not leave her again._

He opened his mouth to answer to her cries, but instead water sputtered out on her hands and the front of his shirt. Next thing she knew he was heaving up water, his breath becoming more rigid by the second, his face turning blue.

_Bloody hell, he was drowning._

She jerked her hands from his in fear, sliding backwards onto the floor and against the wall, despite the fact that Fitz desperately struggled to grab at her. She trembled in fear at the sights around her, the other two were unpaused and moving.

Coulson and Skye were crying out for her, voices coated heavily with pain and suffering. Fitz was still choking on water, while Coulson barely laid barely conscious against a wall. Skye was a frail, limp figure in a pool of her own blood.

All appeared to be long gone, but their voice still cried to her. They begged her to save them, pleaded that she not let them go like this.

Every bone in her body was trembling, their voices like knives piercing into her brain. She put her hands over her ears, shaking as a new voice called out her name.

_"I can't!"_ she wanted to scream to the voice screaming in her head, but words could hardly form. Her mind was in too much distraught at everything she witnessed around her, all she could do was hunch over the floor with her ears covered by her water drenched hands.

The voice screaming her name grew seemingly louder, drawing the girl into utter panic. Unable to think or do anything, she gave in to the chaos and the madness, the clawing and scratching of the voices at her brain.

Her screams were enough to make glass shatter, becoming tangled and disoriented with the sounds of all her loved ones crying out for her. She screamed until her throat burned with rage, until her mind felt as if it were going to blow up, ready to-.

_"SIMMONS!"_

The voice lurched her off of the smooth surface her head was laying upon, a small gasp escaping her lips. The screams from her own lips were echoing in her mind, but she was relieved to see that she no longer stood in the dark, chaotic hallway.

She gave a sidewise glance to the person that screamed her name, both surprised and somewhat relieved to see them standing over her with a concerned expression on their face.

_"_ May!" she gasped, pretending to look startled. With the nightmare she just had, her skin probably made her look pale as a ghost.

May narrowed her eyes at the girl, causing Simmons to chew on her lower lip nervously. Her nightmare was anything but a big deal, but she wasn't willing to sit around the campfire and share scary nightmare stories with the other members of the team.

"Are you alright, Simmons?"

She almost broke underneath the woman's stern, concern voice. Her hands nervously clutched onto one another, her face turning paler.

"J-Just fine," she said under a fake cough, giving the woman an even faker smile. "I'm just tired and we have a long day before us, so I think I will excuse myself now and head to bed."

She gave May another reassuring fake smile, scooping her laptop up in the process.

"Goodnight, May."

She ducked her head and made her way out of the small area with a quick pace, refusing to let out a relieved sigh until she made it into her bedroom and locked the door.

She rested her head against the doorway softly, hugging her laptop to her chest. There was no way in bloody hell that she was going to get sleep now, not after that nightmare.

She tried to erase the horrid scenes of seeing all her friends dying from her mind, but the harder she tried the more vivid they got.

_Especially Fitz's._

She told herself to calm down, as she took one sideways glance at her reflection in her full sized-mirror. The hair raising on her neck, her laptop slipping from her hands and landed on the hard metal floor with a crack.

Standing behind her was the body of a woman in a tattered corset and a long, torn, bloodied skirt. Everything would have seemed to be perfectly normal about the person, but it wasn't til Simmons dared herself to lock eyes with the woman that her skin began to crawl.

A messy bun tumbled in filthy, dirty knots over the woman's sagging shoulders, her skin abnormally pale and bruised. Where her eyes should have been was nothing but dark hollows staring back at her, giving off the ambience of a body after it has started to decompose.

She stifled a scream by putting her hand over her mouth, turning violently and stumbling away from where the figure stood. Her knees and arms were shaking, her heart pounding restlessly.

When she tried to get a better glance at the ghost, the decaying being was no longer there. She lowered her hand from her mouth, giving her room a small glance over.

Someone like Fitz and Skye would speculate on how the ghost vanished, but she knew better. There was no ghost on the Bus, this was all just her wild imagination making her see things.

She rolled her eyes at her overreacting, before addressing to her laptop that's screen was now cracked.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she tangled her fingers into her short, wavy hair.

If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that Wilfred Conce was starting to get the better of her.

  
  



End file.
